


The Thought That Counts

by DemonSquipster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anti-British Men of Letters, But Ketch fixes it, Did anyone else notice Mick’s ring, I Ship It, Ketch is Also Romantic, Ketch is Nice, Ketch is friends with Hannibal, M/M, Mentions to Hannibal (TV), Mick has a bad day, No Smut, Pre-Season 12, Pro-Ketch, Remember this is rated G, There’s no human in Ketch’s food, i sure did, just fluff, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 05:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13182918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonSquipster/pseuds/DemonSquipster
Summary: When Mick has a bad day at work, he shows up to see Ketch acting different. Not a bad different though. Ketch fixes up the house to make it nicer, and leaves little surprises for Mick. Mick just wants to know what Ketch is planning for the night’s events.





	The Thought That Counts

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this was not the fic I intended to write when I got the idea. This was the fic I ended up with. I don’t regret it.

Mick’d had a very stressful day. One of his reports didn’t get to his superiors like it was supposed to, and he got lectured for that. Then he spent a good hour searching around his office for it. Another lecture about how it was a mess. He spent another good thirty minutes cleaning it all up. He thought he would be able to get out of another lecture. But he was wrong. Meanwhile, he’d texted Ketch a couple of times. Not a single response. They were just little things like, ‘help at the office?’ or ‘Help me. Hess is here. Now.’ Ketch usually always made an effort to respond, especially to Mick. It worried him.

He knew Ketch could protect himself. He couldn’t help but check to see all of the scheduled hunts for that day. Not a single one involved Arthur Ketch. Mick cursed under his breath as he got up, slipping on his jacket. In the car, he decided, he would try to reach Ketch again. Not now, not when people could hear and report it back to someone like Hess; he was sure if he was to call Ketch now, Hess was sure to hear about it before he’d even stepped out of the building. He grabbed his car keys, and headed out. Once he finally made it out of the building, he let out a small breath. The issue of Ketch still hung heavily on his mind - he couldn’t relax yet. He got into his car, and pulled out his phone.

Mick started the car, as he listened to the phone ring. Voicemail. “Goddamn it, Ketch!” He was on the road now, heading toward their house. He tried again. A wave of relief crashed into him as Ketch picked up. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, you bastard! I thought something happened to you! You weren’t answering your phone-“ He stopped, realizing Ketch was laughing. “Is my worrying hilarious to you now?” Despite his relief, he was scowling. Ketch’s sense of humor annoyed him, like usual. “My phone was on silent. I didn’t want any of my work duties to distract me; I was busy.” Mick raised an eyebrow dubiously. “Really? Busy, that you’d risk ignoring someone like Hess?” Ketch chuckled. “Yes, exactly. You’ll understand when you get home, okay? Just... wait a moment longer.” Mick wanted to argue, he wanted Ketch to explain. But he was sure Ketch would, in good time. So he sighed, and went along with it. Ketch ended the call soon after that, and Mick pulled into the driveway, as Ketch stood outside. He didn’t look busy.

Mick got out, and he stared at Ketch for a moment, expectantly. Ketch was wearing a suit, per usual, but it wasn’t one of his normal Hugo Boss-type suits. Mick’d noticed this one, sitting in their closet a bit ago. It was... nicer, almost. Fit for a special event. His Vivienne Westwood, he realized. What special event was going on that Mick didn’t know about? “I suppose you’re curious, as to what exactly I was so busy with all day, that I would risk ignoring one of my superiors? Well, come inside.” Ketch extended a hand out to Mick. The latter walked over to Ketch. “You better have a good reason, Arthur.” He took Ketch’s hand in his. Ketch just grinned in response, as they walked inside together. Mick definitely noticed a change.

Ketch had shut the door behind them, as Mick looked around. “It’s a bit cliched, I know. I’m not... good at this type of thing.” Rose petals were scattered, leading a path from the door to the dining room table. It was set formally yet romantically - vase of roses in the middle of the table, tablecloth, candle, et cetera. He wanted to compliment it, but he knew Ketch would just shrug it off. ‘It’s not that good, Mick.’ But it was. A gesture like this was exactly what he needed today. “I also attempted to make dinner. Again, I know. Not very good at this. Just let me know if it’s bad, it’s not too late to order takeout.” Mick was sure he was grinning like an idiot. Everything was cleaner as well, the dishes really being the first thing he noticed. They’d been so busy that they’d fallen behind on chores, so Ketch stepping up to help really just made his heart soar.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Mick finally stammered out. He’d made it over to the table, his hand resting on the corner closest to the remarkably clean kitchen. It’d been a while since everything was actually in its right place, Mick had almost forgotten what the kitchen was supposed to look like. Ketch walked over to the table, and pulled out a chair. He gestured for Mick to sit down, who did with a meek thank you. Ketch was still smiling, but it was softer now. There was something in it that he never would have let anyone else but Mick see. And he felt a little proud of himself for getting to be the one to see it. Not even Toni got to see what Ketch really was like. Though Mick was positive she knew, in some form. “I followed a recipe from a friend of mine. Of course, I may have messed something up. But it’s the thought that counts, right?” Ketch disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Mick at the table a moment. He took a moment of silence to process what he’d witnessed. Arthur Ketch dressed up in his special suit on a day that’s not either of their birthdays, and he worked all day to clean the house and make dinner and make everything all nice and romantic for Mick. He was completely clueless as to Ketch’s intentions.

Ketch finally emerged with two plates. “Skipping the whole entree and appetizer idea - because I had enough trouble with this, and I don’t apparently know how a kitchen works, we’re having pork loin served with Cumberland Sauce. I’m not a chef, but I don’t think it looks bad.” He set down one of the plates in front of Mick, and then the other in front of himself. He sat across the table from Mick, and looked up anxiously at the shorter man. There was silence a moment, before Mick laughed a little. “Did I do something wrong?” Ketch looked genuinely nervous for a second. “Not at all. I’m just surprised. I showed up, worried about you, and I get greeted with roses, smiles, and dinner.”

Ketch laughed back. “But you like it?” Mick nodded. “I love it.” Relief passed through Ketch’s expression. The light was dim, but Mick noticed the light red in Ketch’s cheeks. He knew it wasn’t either of their birthdays. Job promotion? He supposed assassins didn’t exactly get those. Mick was positive he wouldn’t get one soon after the day he’d had. He picked up his fork and knife, and noticed Ketch hadn’t moved to eat. “I guess I’m the judge now?” Ketch nodded. “Generally, yes.” Mick hesitantly cut a piece. “So just to be certain. If this is bad, we’ll have takeout?” Ketch sighed. “My cooking isn’t that bad, Mick.” Mick chuckled. “I know, I know. I’m just teasing you.” He took a bite, as Ketch waited eagerly. “Well?” Mick nodded. He waited a moment longer to respond, as Ketch would probably scold him for talking with food in his mouth - ‘Manners, Mick, they’d do you well.’ “Actually pretty good. I guess you aren’t all that bad.”

Ketch picked up his own fork and knife finally. “I’m not sure if that was an insult or a compliment, but I’ll take it as the former.” Mick felt Ketch lightly kick him under the table. “Haven’t you ever been told not to abuse your boyfriend, Arthur?” Ketch rolled his eyes, before taking a bite. “You’re right. Not too bad. Better than takeout.” For all of his joking, Mick actually really liked it. He’d certainly have to have Ketch cook more. There must have been some reason Ketch was setting all of this up for? Unless he was just being nice. He was entirely confused. They’d sat in silence for a while now, as they finished. Mick hadn’t minded it though. It wasn’t the kind of silence that he’d felt in his office, or as an orphan on the streets. It wasn’t a lonely silence. This was filled with affection and kindness.

Mick had finished before Ketch had, and he waited as his lover ate. Ketch had taken care of Mick’s dishes for him, before walking over to Mick’s side of the table. “You might be wondering, why did I do all of this for you?” He looked nervous again. Mick started to piece it all together, but he couldn’t have been sure yet. “Michael, how could I not? You’ve always been there when I needed it. There to stitch up wounds from hunts, there to hold me after nightmares. Now, you’ve probably figured it all out by now, being the clever boy you are. But don’t interrupt me, not now. You need to know. We never really talked for our first years at Kendricks. We said little greetings, and occasionally the apologies because we’d bump into each other. I went over to you after the Timothy thing. I knew it wasn’t the brightest idea, but I had to go comfort you. I knew what you were going through. Grief and guilt are terrible things. I’m glad I went over there though. Nothing in the world could convince me to go back and change that.”

“So, Mick. We are where we are because of that. That one little talk we had, along with that one little hug. Now we’re here, and I’m saying all these things that I’ve been meaning to say for a while now, and you’re sitting there, probably also wanting to say some things. Yeah, it wasn’t exactly the most romantic meeting, but it was ours. There are a million things I could say to you now, and a million things I’m sure you’d be willing to listen to. But we don’t have enough time, sadly. Yes, I’ve known you since we were kids, after I comforted you after Timothy’s death, and now we’re... dating, or whatever we are, and yet I still can’t express myself to you because I love you more than I can explain and you mean everything to me, and I love the fact that you’ve been there for me, and that you’ve been willing to wake up in the middle of the night to comfort me after my guilty conscience sinks into my nightmares, even if you haven’t slept in days and you’ve just managed to slip off into a dreamless sleep, and that’s only just the beginning of the many astounding things I want to tell you! If I could shout it to the world without repercussions of the British Men of Letters, I would!”

Ketch was louder now, more self-confident. Mick couldn’t help but sit back and listen in admiration. “You know what I’m doing, I know what I’m doing, why don’t we just get on with it? Michael Davies,” he reached for his pocket. Mick’s heart was beating widly in his chest. Of course he knew what he was going to say in response. “I know we can’t get married. It’s both against the law, and the British Men of Letters would piss their prissy pants and kill us both for indecency. But you know what?” He got down on one knee, pulling a little blue box out of his pocket. Mick could feel tears threatening to stream down his face. They weren’t tears of sadness though. “Hypothetically...” Ketch opened the box. Inside was a little silver ring - pure silver, he knew, it matched the color of some of Ketch’s weapons too well not to be - with a dark blue jewel on top. He thought it was the same type as the little French jewel that Mick had brought back from his trip. He’d taken time away once (he could do that, the details of the hunts could be sent via email), just for a couple of days. Azurite. He was more certain of this than the pure silver idea. “Would you marry me?”

Mick nodded. “Yes. Yes!” He dropped down to hug Ketch. “Hypothetically of course.” Mick’s voice was muffled by Ketch’s shoulder, but Ketch still knew what he said. “I love you, clever boy. Don’t ever forget that.” Mick was crying now, being all emotional again. “I love you too, Arthur. I’m here for you, okay? No matter how much of a screw-up you can be.” A small laugh escaped Ketch’s lips. They sat there in each other’s arms, not daring to move. Whatever happened to them, they could get through it together. Hypothetically.


End file.
